Pain
by Delora2047
Summary: Stingray and Darkstar struggle to survive on Mars. Set pre series. -- Deals with miscarriage.


Stingray and Darkstar struggle to survive on Mars. Set pre series.

(Deals with miscarriage.)

Thanks to Robyn for beta-reading.

_Disclaimer: 'The Adventures of the Galaxy Rangers' is copyrighted by Hearst Entertainment, Inc._

_This is a work of fanfiction and I make no profit of it._

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* * *

_--

"Star, you need to eat something!"

She tried to look up so that she could meet Ray's eyes, but even that little movement sent waves of nausea through her. The plastic cloth on the floor that served as their table blurred before her eyes. She was holding herself upright by sheer force of will.

When the world was standing still again and her stomach had stopped rebelling, she managed to whisper, "Some tea with sugar."

Ray went away to the little antechamber behind a plastic curtain that they used as a kitchen. She tried to remember if she had eaten anything that was likely to cause food poisoning as she suppressed another wave of nausea.

A minute later, Ray was back with a cup of strong black tea with sugar and some salt crackers. He had apparently listened when she lectured him about electrolyte replacement. Gingerly, she sipped some of the tea and even managed to chew some of the crackers. Her head was pounding.

"Star, how do you feel?" Ray asked and placed a hand on her shoulder. It was probably meant to be comforting, but she was hard-pressed not to jerk away. She did not want him to touch her when she was hurting all over.

She did not want to be sick. She had been struggling with fever and congestion since they moved into their current apartment ten days ago, and she finally wanted to make the full round of their neighborhood today to discern who was harmless and whom they needed to be wary of.

When she tried to get up, the room started spinning again. Ray grabbed her arm to support her, and for once, she did not protest.

"I think I need to lie down again," she croaked. He almost carried her to the corner where they had put their sleeping mats. He shook up the pillow for her and arranged the blanket around her, and she was actually grateful for it.

"Do you want me to get you a doctor?" Ray asked, concern evident in his voice.

She tried to shake her head and immediately regretted the movement.

"It's probably just the stomach flu. I should be better in a day or two."

It was cold season, and everyone around them was sneezing and vomiting. The slums in Mars City were so crowded that it would actually have been a miracle if the flu didn't spread like an epidemic. However, her enhanced immune system should have been able to fight off these germs easily – unless X-factor had messed it up. That was something she didn't want to think about. She already needed to rely on Ray enough and did not want to burden him with constant sickness.

"You should be immune to that." Ray echoed her own doubts.

"Apparently, I'm not." She even managed a weak smile. "We'll just have to get through it."

He still looked unconvinced. She wished he would just leave her alone. She was afraid of his means to get her medical help if he suspected just how awful she felt. She did not want him to go back to robbing stores in order to pay for a doctor, or worse, abduct a medical practitioner.

If X-factor had indeed harmed her body permanently, the only one who might be able to help her would be Dr. Negata, and there was no reason to believe he would even try.

"Promise you will see a doctor if things don't get better."

"Promise you will go to the interview with Jonathan Carmichael this morning," she retorted with the last of her strength.

He sighed, and she could hear the frustration in it.

"I only want to take care of you."

"Go see Mr. Carmichael then," she insisted.

She knew he was reluctant to leave her alone, but they needed an income, and a regular job with one of the local crime lords would provide much more stability than independent shop lifting or mugging.

"I'll check on you as soon as I can," he said and tucked the blanket around her one more time.

After that, she closed her eyes. She could hear him move around the apartment probably checking for cockroaches and other unwanted cohabitants. He made some more tea and put a thermos next to her bed before he left, and she finally allowed herself to doze off.

When she woke several hours later, sunlight was filtering through the blinds, and the apartment had already started to get hot. She groggily sat up and assessed her situation. Her stomach had stopped revolting, but she still felt weak. Even if she was able to shake this flu within a day or two, she should never have fallen sick in the first place, at least not to the extent where she could not keep her food down and had trouble seeing straight.

The first year after the Supertroopers fled from Wolf Den, she had been plagued by headaches, stomach cramps and vertigo, but these troubles had subsided. If X-factor had weakened her immune system, it should have happened right away and not one and a half years later. Unless X-factor had only slightly destabilized her immune system, just enough that some form of parasite could afflict her…

She mentally went through the symptoms she had experienced in the past year: her bouts of fatigue could well have been signs of more than mere hunger; both nausea and abdominal cramps were signs of giardiasis.

She didn't have the equipment to check her suspicions, which meant she would indeed need to see a medical practitioner. She remembered a nearby community health center that treated people for a small fee; moreover, they were swamped with flu cases so that they probably would do only standard tests on her and no fancy exams that revealed she was not entirely human.

The health center was about five blocks away, so she left a note for Ray and walked slowly there. The unpaved roads were dusty but not yet as hot as they would be in the afternoon.

She only needed to sit in the waiting room for an hour. The sneezing and coughing of the other patients around her made her slightly nervous, but to her relief, her own condition did not worsen. When it was her turn, she spoke to an elderly nurse who had tied back her hair with a green ribbon, or at least, she tried to speak to the nurse. The woman understood hardly any English, and Darkstar had not yet mastered the local dialect. She managed to explain her symptoms with the help of pantomime nonetheless. The nurse took several blood and urine samples and pointed to the calendar to show her she should be back the following morning. The nurse even gave her some pain killers although Darkstar knew they would hardly work on her enhanced metabolism.

When she came back to the apartment, she found a note from Ray, 'Had to run a demonstration errand for my new boss. Thought I'd also bring you something to eat. Get better.' Next to the note lay a stack of flat bread and some bananas. Grateful for the rare treat and the fact that her stomach was actually welcoming the nourishment, she ate them savoring each bite.

She knew they could not afford bananas. Mars did not grow them, and they had to be imported from Earth. But then, they had hardly any money left, and it probably did not matter whether they were stealing staples such as bread or luxuries such as bananas.

She only hoped Ray hadn't stolen the food from their own neighborhood. She had chosen this quarter of town precisely because its inhabitants hated the Mars Police Force and would not cooperate with them, but their neighbors might change their principles enough to send an anonymous tip if Stingray became a threat to them.

She had been taught not to steal, no matter from whom. She had amended that rule: if you have to steal, it doesn't matter from whom you take it unless they can harm you.

She managed to do some house cleaning before tiredness overcame her again. She swept the floor of their one room apartment and cleaned the bathroom and the kitchenette with chlorine. Maybe they could buy some new sleep mats soon; the ones they had were third-hand and breathed dust whenever she sat or lay on them. After the cleaning, she lay down again and slept through the afternoon.

When Ray came home in the evening and she asked how things had gone, he merely told her he had a choice between selling drugs and collecting money from the sellers. He refused to discuss things until she had eaten at least some of the bread and the bean stew he had bought. If he was keen to avoid an argument with her, she must still appear rather frail. The thought made her angry. She didn't want to be weak.

"So what do you plan on doing?" she asked finally when dinner was over.

"What do you want me do?" he replied, sounding still calm, but she could sense the simmering anger underneath.

"I could try to find work."

He stacked the empty dishes before he answered. She could hear the mockery even though he tried to suppress it.

"Darkstar, I'm sure there is plenty of need for a nurse here, but no one can pay for it."

She didn't reply. She hated that he was right.

After a moment of silence, he continued.

"We know a lot more about the galaxy now than we did when we left Earth. All we need is a fast ship, and we could leave this hole. On the outer colonies, no one asks questions about where the goods you're selling come from."

She swallowed hard. He had a point, but not even the best equipped small ship could house a star drive potent enough to outrun a battle cruiser. They would be like sitting ducks if anyone found out about them.

"Star, they don't even know for sure we're still alive. Half our cargo could be legal."

She saw the hope in his eyes, and she could not bring herself to say no. She felt trapped in this endless argument of theirs. Tiredness made it hard for her to think.

"I'll consider it," she promised.

Her exhaustion must have shown because he let it be at that and even cleaned the dishes although it was not his turn.

She withdrew to the corner with their sleeping mats, but although she was bone tired, sleep remained elusive. Ray had switched off the lights and was perusing some booklet in the faint glow of the gas lamp that they used during power outages.

"What are you reading?" she asked.

"Something about the path of righteousness. My new boss thinks I should understand the local mentality," he replied sarcastically.

She turned her face to the wall and huddled in the blankets. Nights on Mars were as cold as the days were hot. Involuntarily, her thoughts wondered back in time.

It had been 17 months since they left Earth.

The first three months they didn't even dare set foot on a planet. They raided small scientific space stations and remote asteroid mining colonies to replenish supplies, always trying to stay one step ahead of the Space Navy that was hunting them.

When matters calmed down, they dared to land on Mars. For two months, they just tried to get their bearings, lying low, taking small jobs, robbing small shops. After that, Stingray grew bolder. He went for the rich neighborhoods and the shopping malls where plenty of cash was to be had. They had several close run-ins with the police, but they remained inconspicuous enough until Stingray started using his powers to intimidate people. After that, they sent Gooseman, and after that, the Space Navy.

She hadn't wanted the dead, but it was war. They had been lucky Killbane had been around, and that his animosity toward the Space Navy was a lot greater than any resentment he might be harboring against her and Stingray.

Nonetheless, she hated being indebted to Killbane.

After the fight with the Space Navy, she and Ray debated what to do. Leaving Mars seemed sensible, but that was what their pursuers expected; thus, they stayed. They joined up with the ragtag group that remained of the 'Independence for Mars' movement. The BWL called these combatants 'terrorists;' they preferred the term 'freedom fighters;' Darkstar just thought they were crazy for believing they could break away from Earth with the help of some rifles and home-made bombs. But no one was looking for her and Ray in the desert hills where they underwent a four month training in basic guerrilla warfare, so the militant group served their purpose.

They left the 'Mars Independence' when it started to threaten their own independence. Their self-appointed leaders thought they were ready to participate in attacks, but they were not willing to fight anyone's fight.

That had been four months ago.

After they had left the independence movement (or the chaos club, as Ray used to call it), they tried to make a living with odd jobs in the smaller Mars communities, but hunger became a constant companion. It wasn't a life they could keep up.

They returned to Mars City where there was an abundance of jobs for people who did not shirk from violence. Strangely, wielding a gun paid a lot better than scaling fish or slaughtering chicken.

She did not want to have anything to do with trafficking drugs, but unless her health stabilized, they could not afford to be choosy about jobs. Even then, legal and well-paid was a combination they could not hope for.

Ray came over and lay down beside her. He put his arms around her and she let him, but she stopped him when he started stroking her back. Her body still felt way too sensitive for her to enjoy any type of touch.

* * *

--

The next morning she rose early, even before anyone in the neighborhood stirred for the first call to prayer. It was one of the rare moments of quiet in the slum. She made tea and put their remaining bread onto the tablecloth.

Ray seemed relieved to see she was better and did not even complain about the meager food as he usually did. She forced down some dry bread steeped in sweat tea into her queasy stomach. When Ray went to work, he mumbled something about collecting money, and she didn't ask any questions.

When he was gone, she collapsed against the wall and waited for the white spots in front of her eyes to disappear.

After an hour that seemed endless to her, the spots receded, and she got up and went to the bathroom. All they had was a closet sized room with a compost toilet and a hole in the concrete floor to drain water. There was no running water; they had to buy drinking water from street outlets.

Darkstar cleaned herself with the help of a washcloth. They may have to live in squalor, but she didn't want to look like it. Her mood did not improve when she discovered blood stains in her underwear and realized that her period had started; clothes needed to be hand washed here.

Another bout of sickness hit her. She managed not to vomit taking one deep breath after the other until the nausea passed. She hated being sick.

When she was feeling slightly stronger, she forced herself to walk to the health center. This constant weakness had to end.

She talked, or tried to talk, to the same nurse as the previous day. The conversation soon grew frustrating as she understood hardly a word though 'hamila' was repeated several times. Nonetheless, she concluded from the nurse's relaxed body posture and unwavering, friendly smile that whatever she had was harmless. Relief flooded her. Harmless meant passing or treatable. Finally, the nurse gave her a bottle of pills. She could not read the script but recognized the chemical formulae. Vitamins.

She faltered. Was this a joke or had the nurse mixed her up with another patient?

Seeing Darkstar's agitation, the nurse tried to explain again. Even when the words were pronounced more slowly, they didn't make sense though she could make out 'tifl' and promised herself she would get a dictionary as soon as possible. The nurse made several gestures as though she was painting a balloon, and Darkstar wondered whether the woman was trying to tell her that she needed to gain weight, was pantomiming that she had a tumor, or was illustrating the swelling body cells underwent when exposed to a watery solution with a low concentration of minerals.

Finally, the nurse gave up on her explanations and went for a book on one of the shelves on the wall. She leafed through the book, and when she had found the page she was looking for, she put the opened book in front of Darkstar.

The image was very clear, yet Darkstar's mind refused to believe what she saw. The page had a schematic drawing of a woman in the advanced stages of pregnancy. Smile still firmly in place, the nurse pointed at the woman's uterus with the developing baby then at Darkstar's still flat stomach.

She was glad she was sitting. It made way too much sense: her irregular periods, the stomach cramps, the nausea. She had been told it was impossible, but many things that she had believed impossible had come about within the last 17 months.

The nurse must have noticed her consternation because her face grew concerned and she started asking some rapid questions. Darkstar ignored her. She could not process any more information.

She inclined her head to thank the nurse, stuffed the bottle with vitamins into her coat and strode out of the building.

The sunlight was glaring in her eyes, but not as jarring as the revelation she had just had. It couldn't be true. She didn't want it to be true, and yet it was true. She noticed people were staring at her and started walking. She took a detour on the route home to clear her thoughts. A part of her felt numb, but the medically trained part of her mind was already assembling the facts with detached professionalism.

Female Supertroopers had been designed with a normal hormonal cycle, but her period had always been almost unnoticeable when she was still in training at Wolf Den. She concluded that the stronger bleedings she experienced now were either a sign that X-factor had changed her hormone system, or more likely, that back at Wolf Den, she had been given contraceptives together with the inhibitors that were meant to keep them from any sexual activity.

Or – the woman's mind recoiled from the thought, but the scientist pressed on – the strong bleedings had actually been earlier miscarriages. The chance of conception for a young healthy woman was about 0.25 percent per cycle. 17 months with a 0.25 percent chance each month… The mathematics scared her.

The unpleasant clicking sound that a pack of cockroaches made forced her to pay attention to the approaching giant insects. She picked up a couple of stones and hit several of them; the rest scattered. Dogs would have learned to avoid humans in time, but insects did not have the brain functions for it. They also multiplied much faster than dogs could no matter how many poisoned baits the city council had laid out for them.

She knew the Board had been paranoid about mutant genes spreading into the general population and that Supertroopers had been designed sterile, but she had never been told the details of how, nor had she cared. She had assumed surgical sterilization, but the Supertroopers' strong healing factor might well make that impractical. She recalled Sawyer once mentioning it had been done on the chromosomal level.

The scientist immediately pursued that theory. If paired chromosomes of an individual stuck together, that would not impair normal division of cells. In mitosis, chromosomes were divided into chromatides along their axis. But fused chromosomes would impair meiosis where each pair of chromosomes was separated to produce haploid gametes. If the chromosomes of a pair were stuck together, the resulting gametes would have either one chromosome too much or too little per pair. The only chance for healthy offspring would be if the chromosomes of father and mother had separated exactly so that for each pair one parent brought two chromosomes while the other brought none. The chance for that happening was around one to ten million, the scientist calculated relentlessly. Any egg or sperm cell a Supertrooper's body produced would have either too much or too little genetic material.

The woman wanted to cry, but there was no point in that. She wondered how she and Ray could care for a baby should she be able to carry it to term. The medical professional pointed out that would not happen. The bleeding that had started this morning had intensified. Probably her body was already ridding itself of an organism that would not be viable anyway.

There were tocolytic drugs against premature labor, but she could not be farther along than three months, and if rejection of the embryo occurred that early, medication was probably pointless. Not that there was any chance she could have procured that type of treatment anyway.

She was surprised when she arrived at the door of the tenement where they were living. She hadn't noticed her surroundings. She ignored all her neighbors' greetings on the way up to their apartment and just curled up on the mats on the floor although their room was stiflingly hot under the midday sun.

The medical professional pointed out that there was nothing she could do, and she should take the painkillers she had been given yesterday. But she wanted to feel the pain. It was all she could do.

In the afternoon, the pain subsided. She got up and cooked the last of their millet to regain some strength. She almost dared hope when the bleeding lessened as well.

A local boy brought a message from Ray that he was delayed and would not be able to come home before the evening of the following day.

She felt a pang of hurt at the though she would have to see this through on her own, but then – she would not have known how to tell Ray if he had come back.

In the evening, the pain returned together with strong abdominal cramps.

Her neighbor from across the hall knocked several times, but she ignored her. She had no strength and no words left.

Around midnight, there was nothing left to hope for.

She fell into bed, alone, exhausted and crying.

* * *

--

In the morning, she did not even want to get up, but her neighbor was persistent in her knocking, and after some time, it became easier to let her in than to ignore her. She saw that Sabah had brought her oldest son, who spoke some English.

She knew she should offer them seats and tea, but it was too much effort, and she just kept standing next to the door.

"Are you okay? We were worried when you not answer the door yesterday," Sabah's son said.

"I was sick, but now it's over," she replied. She hoped they would leave soon.

Sabah spoke quickly and urgently.

"Have you saw the news yesterday?" her son translated.

She shook her head. Had there been another confrontation between the police and local drug syndicates? Sudden, irrational fear gripped her. Ray knew better than to get involved in that type of melee, didn't he?

Apparently proud to announce some big news, the teenage boy beamed. She relaxed. Maybe there would be free water for the quarter or some similar improvement of infrastructure.

"We made first contact with aliens. They came to Earth because they want an alliance with us, and they have a super-fast star drive."

She was not sure how to react. It sounded… surreal. But Sabah kept nodding energetically and smiling, and finally she had to admit that this was not a joke.

She thanked Sabah and her son for their concern, and then she threw politeness and hospitality out of the window and told them she needed to go shopping.

She had to take a bus to a different quarter to find a café where Tri-D in English was on. There was no need to ask the bartender to switch to a news channel. The Andorean and Kiwi ambassador who had come to BETA and brought with them the plans for the hyperdrive and improved gene-engineered plants were the only topic everywhere.

And while she watched and sipped her coffee, she realized what she had to do.

She had lost a child and would never again have one, but she still had someone to care for, and the life they were leading right now was slowly wearing them down.

She made a quick stop at the health center to get a contraceptive implant; then she took another bus to the really dark parts of Mars City and started making plans how to get a ship with a hyperdrive, and which goods would bring most in smuggling, and which contacts could provide them.

When Ray came home in the evening and started complaining about his new work, she silenced him with a kiss. He was surprised but delighted when she told him she agreed to open their own cargo transport business.

They spent the whole evening and the better part of the night making plans.

They needed to look forward, and she would take care of him.


End file.
